Fool me a little more
by Veilwuarrah
Summary: The wait for Arthur is starting to have effects on Merlin. Post-S.5. Oneshot.


**A little something, a little something.. I was just thinking how lonely Merlin would get while waiting, and what could the effects of such a long and painful wait be.. Feedback appreciated! Hope you like~ **

_**Update galore! As other fics of mine are getting updates as well~**_

**.*.**

_Some nights were easy,_

_Some nights were restless.._

_Some days passed quickly.._

_Some days seemed endless._

Merlin never truly realized how he got back to Camelot. Reality would blur on him from that moment on. Pain screamed off of him, and only Gaius seemed to really understand the heaviness of the king's death weighing on his ward. The physician had him downing a sleeping draught as soon as their duties allowed, and Merlin didn't put up a fight.

But time moved forward. The sluggish minutes slipped into hours and hours turned into days.

Healing was slow, and it never seemed to fully close the wound that was open and seeping and very much painful, no matter the days, the weeks, the months that passed by; and one glimpse, one memory, a single object to remind him was enough to make it crack open as if all that happened just then and the healing would have to begin all over again.

The warlock's memory never dimmed about that day, and as much as happier things came his way, that faithful day when he lost everything always loomed over him. It followed him like a shadow; it clang onto him like a disease.

And the months grew into years and years flew into decades. And Gaius died; and the knights died; and slowly, but surely everyone vanished from beside him. Gwen wasn't there; nor his mother; nor anyone, he ever truly knew; Not princess Mithian; nor Queen Annis; and Kilgharrah stopped coming to his calls.

_"What will I do without you..?"_

_"You will remember me.."_

And he realized, that's the only thing he could do. Remember them. Remember them all.

At first he stayed in Camelot, but one by one, the people he knew vanished; friends and townspeople alike; joining in the cycle of life as their time came.. they all died and disappeared into the past and no matter how he tried to hold onto them, to hold onto their memories; the sound of their laughter became a faint echo in his mind; their faces became dimmed images, and time came passing mercilessly. Pushing forward new ages, and new eras and he saw it all come and go and pass.. and it dawned upon him with each death, that his sole being is different than that of a mortal. He wasn't granted the privilege to part of that cycle. He was doomed to see it all from the outside.

_A creature of magic; _and he found himself alone.

People he knew and loved, were so far back in the past he barely remembered them. Only one remained.

_Arthur._

That one face never faded; that one image never dimmed.

He would make himself young, he would move around, meet new people, find purpose in each age that presented itself as time moved forward for the world.

_For the world; but not for him._

Thousands of years passed unnoticed, and he had seen the world change, he had seen kingdoms rise and fall and wars be fought; he had seen magic vanish and be forgotten, and honor die out from the hearts of men, and the age and values he knew had disappeared behind inventions of iron and science; guns and canons; cars and newspapers; mobile phones and space ships; he never really found his place in this new world or the next one; or the one that came after it. Forests were cut down and gave place to stone buildings raised high as the sky. The crystal cave was buried; the Valley of the Fallen King disappeared; Camelot, Nemeth, Caerleon all became ruins and tourist sights, stories about them often varying from the truth, but he didn't bother to correct them. There would've been too many questions posed; to many answers questioned; and too many wounds reopened.

He never ventured too far from where he said his goodbye to Arthur; the Once and Future King; his beloved friend. And even when he did, he would come back to that place.

He settled. He had a small hut near the edge of the forest, looking out onto the lake; where he hid himself and waited. – A wait that sometimes was a burden, sometimes a torture, and all the time _mourning._ There was a time he tried to welcome people into his life, but it has passed, he no longer intended to entertain children with stories or be a healer, side my side with the white coated men and women; no longer seeked to fight battles for rulers, that were anything, but like _his king._

He became an old man, and no longer felt the urge to make himself young again. He often was a victim to vandals, suffered hunger and cold, but he kept to himself. And waited.

And each passing moment he waited; it got him tired and exhausted; it consumed him, it stretched on forever. Now he was completely lost as to what would happen if the Once and Future king would return. The land was so lost in gluttony and greed, people no longer having faith nor in the Gods, nor in themselves, all lost behind inventions of metal and technology, where there was no room left for magic in the land and no honor in the deeds of men. Yet he waited. Come what may, the path will show itself when the time comes – that was the only thing he could hope in.

He fell asleep in his arm chair again.

It was dark when he startled awake to a familiar clang, and he opened his eyes to see a familiar man in a familiar outfit standing in front of him. A mischievous smile on his face, that had just recently grown to be of a man from a boy's features; still young and still strong, eyes full of sparkle of want for deeds to make his kingdom a better place; to fight magical creatures; to gain victory over evils of the realm; to win battles that will grant the people of the land a more fair and just ways to live.

_There stood Arthur._

Smiling and looking at him. - Like he did so many nights, when he would appear in front of Merlin. – A mere vision; a mirage; destiny's cruel jest on his tired mind. It was nothing more, then fooling an old man. Merlin didn't jump to him, like he'd done a first couple of times. He just sat and looked at him. Running his gaze all over his features, careful not to miss any detail, trying to memorize it all, as if this were the last time he'd have the chance to see it.

Sometimes Arthur would speak, sometimes he would joke, their usual and oh so missed banter; other times he would start to bleed, he would die in front of him; he would call him a liar and a traitor; and there were times he would curse at him for failing, he would scream and accuse and unleash his fury in a torrent of words that always had the warlock in agony, and as much as it drew tears to the old man's eyes and ache in his heart, he didn't _dare_ to close his eyes as to not let it slip away from his sight. Even if Arthur turned on him, drew his sword and vanished as mist just before he was to run him through, Merlin kept his eyes open for as long as he could. Because whatever his king threw at him, the warlock longed for it. He missed Arthur. So much so that it hurt him. So he didn't close his eyes, and just watched, and waited to see what will this _mirage of Arthur_ do this time.

But this time he just stood there.

"Hello Merlin." He spoke with confidence.

"Hello Arthur." He whispered in a hoarse voice.

_Fool me.. just fool me a little more…_

He didn't dare to breathe to loud; he tried to will his heart not to pound so loud; he didn't dare blink or close his eyes.. didn't dare to speak a word..

Arthur stood there and he longed so much for it to be true it tore at his heart with searing pain. The longing, the wait, the guilt, all consuming.. He didn't want to look away; he wanted the moment to last; this peaceful moment to last.. _just a little longer._

His eyes gathered tears and the salty drops poured across his wrinkled cheeks, disappearing into the fair forest of his beard.

Eventually sleep pushed him into darkness.. but there was one thing Merlin did not know when he finally closed his eyes; one thing he will realize when he wakes in the morning.

This time it wasn't a mirage.

This time Arthur really stood there.


End file.
